The Safe Word is 'Harder'
The Safe Word is 'Harder'
"Vinyl, I no longer enjoy having sex with you."
Vinyl Scratch, a muscular, yet slender woman with electric-blue hair done in spikes with the finest gel, a DJ, an amateur actor for the local theatre, a session pianist, and Octavia's girlfriend, raised her head in surprise, diverting her attention from the morning paper that boasted yet another economic crisis and a new Broadway play. "Octavia?"
Octavia, a slim, prim, stately woman with a long, beautiful hairdo, a cellist, a part-time conductor, a somewhat-renowned composer, and Vinyl's girlfriend, sighed, rubbing her temples, as she cradled a mug of tea in her long, slender fingers. "I've been meaning to tell you that for weeks. I can't cum, Vinyl. I just... I just don't like the way we have sex."
Vinyl blinked, her mind immediately trying to come up with solutions. "Maybe... We could try new things... Like, maybe... um..."
"That's it!" Octavia slammed her fist against the table. "This, right here! You are way too gentle. I just can't... Uh!" The cellist closed her eyes, massaging her eyelids. "You are always kissing me and whispering sweet words, and, dammit, you are as insecure as a college freshman!"
"But..." Vinyl tried to protest, but the words died on her lips, a frown crossing her face. "I just... I thought you liked it... I... Don't you like it when I'm gentle and all?.."
"No!" Octavia growled, leaning forth, glaring daggers at her girlfriend. "Hell no! Dammit, Vinyl! All the time, I ask you to bite me or spank me or, hell, verbally berate me! I need it, don't you understand?!"
"But... But I can't do something bad to you, Tavi!" Vinyl protested. "You are my girl, my little cellist..."
"God..." Octavia rolled her eyes. "Vinyl, it's all good in romance, but that's sex. The point of sex is to orgasm. And I can't cum when you're being all smooch-smooch and kiss-kiss! Hell, I'd rather you threw me on the floor and had your way with me! Maybe I could cum then!" the raven-haired woman fumed, taking deep breaths through her nostrils.
"Well, I can't!" Vinyl retorted. "That's how I have sex with you, and you-"
"And I what?!" Octavia demanded. "Deal with it? Or, maybe," she suggested in a spur of fury, "I should find someone who can satisfy me? Who can throw me on the ground and ravage my pussy with a dildo and make me cum!"
Vinyl's eyes shot wide open. "You... would leave me for someone else?" the disk-spinner asked finally, her words dry and her voice hurt.
"No." Octavia exhaled. "Of course not. It's just..." She glanced at the clock. "Look, I have to go to work. Just... think about what I've said."
With that, the cellist took her leave, leaving the tea, as well as her dumbfounded girlfriend, behind.
***
"Vinyl, I'm home!"
Octavia entered the flat with an exhausted sigh, shrugging off her overcoat with a touch of relief, letting the heavy burden fall from her shoulders, literally. I'll pick it up later. Octavia threw the keys onto the little glass table lazily. Or Vinyl will pick it up. Regardless.
Vinyl emerged from behind the corner, out of the bedroom, walking through the spacious hall towards the cellist, her gaze stern, her brows furrowed, a frown of determined irritation evident on her face. The usual bra'n'pants were replaced by a peculiar latex suit that Octavia could not remember Vinyl having: a top, full-legth tight trousers that encompassed her legs entirely, and even black latex gloves that the DJ took off demonstratively, throwing them at Octavia.
The gloves fell on the floor, drawing Octavia's attention to them. Dumbfounded, the woman glared at her girlfriend, silently demanding an explanation.
Instead, Vinyl took a step forth, pointing at the gloves with her index finger roughly. "Pick them up, slut." The woman's usual silky tone was steely, dripping venom with each word.
"Vinyl, what's the meaning of-" Octavia began, but the spinner closed the distance between them swiftly, unleashing a mean slap on the cellist's cheek, the skin turning pink immediately. The cellist yelped in sheer suprise and pain.
"I said," Vinyl hissed, disregarding her girlflriend's discomfort, "pick them up, slut. I didn't order you to talk." Another slap on Octavia's cheek made the woman stagger back in confusion and fright that Vinyl had somehow gone insane. "Your tongue's place is between my legs. You'll do well to remember that, whore."
Octavia backed down into the door, fear and irritation crossing her face. "Vinyl, this is a ridiculous game and I don't like it!" she said sternly, trying to appeal to reason. Instead, she received another powerful slap and felt a jerking tug at her beautiful charcoal hair. With force, much exceeding her own, Vinyl pressed her girlfriend face into the floor, dropping her to her knees like a sack.
"Pick. Them. Up," Vinyl hissed violently, her voice growling, scary, and dangerous to the cellist. After a fleeting attempt to free herself, which remained in vain, Octavia extended her hands, picking up the latex gloves swiftly. If I try to hit her, she may hit me harder, Octavia thought, absolutely sure that her girlfriend had gone mad, estimating how to call the police without Vinyl noticing. God, it's all my fault. I must have driven her crazy with my stupid complaints... With a grunt, she suddenly realised that, if Vinyl was not controlling herself... She may seriously injure me. Or even... At the very notion, her nethers trembled with traitorous anticipation. She may rape me. Really, really rape me! Fear mixing with arousal was covering Octavia's mind with a hazy blanket.
"With your mouth," Vinyl added, placing her boot-encased foot on the cellist's back as she watched the woman cower on her hand and knees sternly. Octavia obeyed, dropping the gloves and picking them up with her teeth, an unpleasant, rubbery taste assaulting her tongue, resting somewhere on the insides of her cheeks. "There. Now, drop the gloves and lick my boots, slut."
Octavia spat out the gloves, anger in her chest battling fear for dominance, The woman jerked up, trying to rise, Vinyl's leg pinning her to the floor. "Hell, Vinyl, I remember what I said in the morning, and I'm sorry!" she cried out, watching her cold, dispassionate girlfriend, the woman she loved so dearly, the woman who seemed to be intent on torturing her. "I did not mean that!"
Vinyl shifted slowly. Octavia closed her eyes, expecting a punch from the woman, bracing herself for the impact. Instead, she felt Vinyl's boot on her neck, pinning her to the ground with force - force she did not know Vinyl possessed - and, effectively, laying her on the floor, pressing into her neck. "You told me I'd better 'throw you on the floor and have my way with you'," Vinyl hissed lowly, adding a little pressure to the boot, reducing Octavia's breath to short, fervent pants. "Let's see you cum now, slut." With that, the boot pressed into her neck painfully, cutting all airflow.
Octavia had managed to gather up enough breath not to feel faint, but she could feel the precious oxygen escape slowly through her nostrils, even though she kept her mouth tightly shut. She tried to get up, but only ended up losing more oxygen in the wake of her quivering, every vain punch she took at Vinyl's leg ending up in more pressure from the strong, muscular, latex-enveloped leg.
"You like to breathe, don't you, slut?" Vinyl laughed a dirty, evil laugh, bowing slightly, leaning in to the cellist, while making sure to stay out of her arms' reach. "You like to live. Well, tell you what." Vinyl lowered her foot, making Octavia's face turn a deep red, dancing on the edge of early purple. "I decide whether you live or die. I'm the one who lets you breathe and live. I'm your mistress and you are my slave." Vinyl growled lowly, "Are we understood?"
Octavia tried to nod fiercely, clinging to life as well as she could. The boot slipped away. The woman coughed, spitting on the floor as she drew in large, painful breaths. With deep, primeval fear, Octavia caught her torturer's look, the look of one she once called her girlfriend. To her icredible surprise, Vinyl's eyes were not just evil. They were not just angry. They were not just full of frightening indulgence - an emotion truly out of place. They were lustful. "Yes, Mistress," Octavia rasped, regaining her voice, deciding that obedience was the only path she could follow. Until Vinyl fell asleep and she could call the police. Or a mental institution. Possibly both. "I will be a good slave, Mistress." With that, the raven-haired woman crawled towards Vinyl, gazing into her eyes with fake eagerness.
"Good." Vinyl smiled with sudden warmness that still danced side-by-side with stern disgust, and ruffled Octavia's hair. "Now be a good slave and lick my boots."
With a tiny, near-invisible frown - lest Vinyl should see it and punish her - Octavia lowered her head in a bow, on her hands and knees, and extended her tongue, taking a long lick of the black boot before her. As expected, it tasted like... a boot. Simple leather, nothing more. But it was Vinyl's reaction that sent a bolt of electricity down her spine, making her nethers tremble in surprising anticipation: Vinyl moaned loudly, as if Octavia was licking her most sacred regions, and grabbed the raven hair fiercely, drawing it up to her trousers.
The cellist kept licking, and Vinyl kept moaning, her fingers clenching around the long, strong hairs, holding Octavia's head in place. "You're a good slave," she said, rubbing Octavia's head against the inside of her knee, sending little stings of discomfort to the cellist's sensitive tongue. "A really good slut who knows her place. Where's your place, slut?" the disk-spinner asked suddenly, jerking Octavia's head so that their eyes met. Octavia opened her mouth, her mind reeling, lost in Vinyl's lustful, angry glare. "Where is your place, slut?!" she demanded, her eyes narrowing.
Remembering the terrible lack of oxygen, the near-death experience, Octavia gulped, whimpering, "Between your legs, Mistress!"
"Can't hear you!" Vinyl growled, yanking on Octavia's hair furiously.
"Between your legs, Mistress!" Octavia yelled in pain and submission. "My place is between your legs, Mistress! I belong between your legs, licking your pussy, like any good slut should!" And I think I may have gone overboard with that last one... The pressure was gently released.
"Good." Vinyl licked her lips lustfully. "Now take off my trousers and take your place, slut."
Octavia nodded with fake eagerness that was thinly balancing on the edge of true arousal - if her wettening vagina was any indication - and stood on her knees, her hand reaching for the latex trousers. Immediately, a slap on her wrist followed. "No," Vinyl said sternly. "You are a stupid whore, aren't you? With your teeth."
"Of course, Mistress. Forgive me, Mistress." Octavia lowered her head once more. "I am just a stupid cunt. I should have known better." The self-deprecation, the pain, the fear - it was all adding up to a feeling of genuine excitement, finest sexual arousal, a feeling that was, to her, long-forgotten, in the wake of Vinyl's usual gentle, tender attitutde.
It's just the contrary now. With some difficulty, Octavia managed to grasp the fabric in her teeth just tightly enough to take off the trousers, leaving Vinyl's beautiful, muscular legs gloriously bare. There were no pants covering the wet prize, the inner folds of the woman who loved her so and torutred her so.
Octavia felt the fake eagerness fade, replaced by a genuine eagerness, a terrible, traitorous eagerness that appeared as soon as she realised that her dreams of her girlfriend domating her, roughing her up, owning her, were coming true - if to a shocking extent. No, she's not insane, Octavia realised, her face buried in her mistress's pussy, her tongue working on the slit diligently. She's a damn good actor. She's roleplaying. ...She must be!
Maddened by the lust and such thoughts, Octavia reached for her pants with her hand, her slender fingers making their way to her pussy eagerly, intent on delivering the pleasure she so enjoyed. At once, Vinyl's hand collided with her cheek painfully - a now-familiar punishment for misdemeanour. "What the fuck are you doing, slave?" Vinyl demanded angrily, grabbind the woman by the hair and tugging on it hard enough to send tears to Octavia's eyes. "I never allowed you to touch your dirty cunt!"
"I..." Octavia gulped, tears welling in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Mistress! I'm so, so sorry!"
Vinyl withdrew, but gifted the poor cellist with another painful slap that sent her down to the floor. Vinyl's boot lingered dangerously over Octavia, making the raven-haired woman grasp at her neck in fears of being asphyxiated once again. "Sorry! Mistress, I'm so sorry! Please don't kill me!" she blurted out, crying, fear commanding her body and mind.
"A 'sorry' isn't enough," Vinyl hissed, brushing the tip of her boot against Octavia's cheek, as if deciding whether to stomp the cellist into fine powder or have mercy. "I'll have to punish you, Octavia," she said in a low voice, and that very voice - or maybe it was the strangely non-deprecating form of addressing - sent Octavia over the edge.
"Please, Mistress, punish me." Octavia cowered on te floor in a strange mix of fear and ecstasy, trying to get off from grabbing Vinyl's boot and licking the sole enthusiastically. "I'm a dumb cunt that needs to be punished." God, I did NOT just say that! Octavia's nethers felt heated up, as if on fire, aching for release.
Vinyl smirked, sniffing at the air deeply. "Oh ho ho." Octavia trembled. "You think the punishment will involve me ravaging your longing pussy?" Octavia nodded slowly, shutting her eyes close. "You gullible bitch." As Octavia opened her eyes, she saw that Vinyl was no longer in the hall, having left for the bedroom. Immediately, self-preservation took its toll, prompting the woman to crawl towards the door. If Vinyl was not insane - then she could only...
"There you are, slut."
Octavia froze, praying that Vinyl would not kill her for the desperate escape attempt. She won't... She's just playing the role... But since when playing the role implied such harsh, inhumane treatment. But... I asked for this myself. Octavia blamed herself for the morning discussion, realising very well that it was she who had prompted Vinyl to act in such a way. But what was guiding her? A desire to spice up their sex life, bringing more pleasure both to her girlfriend and herself or rage because of the cellist's harsh words? ...Both?
"Thought of running away, didn't you." Taking a glance over her shoulder, Octavia saw Vinyl to be carrying a whip, as well as a huge red dildo, a toy so big that it both scared and excited Octavia as she imagined it going and in and out of her pussy, in and out, in and out... "I think you need a very rough punishment, slut. Do you want to be roughed up?"
"Yes, Mistress." Octavia nodded with fervour. "Please rough me up."
The whip came down with strength, lashing at the cellist's back. Protected by her clothing, she still felt the pain vividly - just like in her fantasies. And, just like in her fantasies, it was making her pussy drool. "Please, Mistress..." Octavia begged, her mind reeling in all directions, her perception hazy and dreamlike. "Please, let me get naked. I want to feel my punishment, Mistress. Please."
Vinyl smirked, sending Octavia's heart aflutter. "You're a good slut," she praised the cellist, getting closer. Then, in a rough, swift motion, she tugged at the cellist's shirt, tearing apart the buttons, the fabric naking her skin and bra. Off came the bra, at Vinyl's tug, leaving Octavia's breasts bare, her nipples fully erect. The trousers followed, with the cellist's eager assistance. And, finally, off came the violet pants, already wet from Octavia's juices. Vinyl showed the pants into Octavia's mouth - a gesture that the submissive woman had no choice but to accept. "It's for your own good," Vinyl explained. "So that you won't scream like the bitch you are when you receive your punishment."
Down came the whip once again, now lashing at the bare skin of Octavia's ass. The cellist moaned into her pants, tears welling in her eyes. It hurt much more than in her fantasies. But it was turning her on much more too. The whip pierced the air with a hateful sound, slicing Octavia's skin, sure to leave scars. Octavia shivered, thinking that, maybe, she would be scarred for life. Immediately, she wanted to masturbate at the sheer thought. She wanted release. She needed it. But her mistress - and Octavia had come to think of Vinyl as her mistress - did not allow it. And, as a good slave, she should obey.
The whip stopped. Octavia took a deep breath, not daring to look at her torturer. Shivers ran down her spine as high expectations of long-awaited pleasure shook her. After all, that dildo isn't there for nothing... "On your hands and knees, bitch," Octavia heard her mistress's order, and obeyed eagerly, shaking, shaking, shaking in erotic anticipation. Her pussy winked traitorously at the approaching intruder.
Suddenly, her whole world became pain as the huge, thick dildo was rammed into her tight, virgin butthole. Octavia screamed, spitting the pants, crying out loud, wiggling her posterior in hopes of overcoming the pain.
"You thought I'd fuck your pussy, slut?" Vinyl laughed maliciously. "Or maybe you thought I'd use lube?" The dildo slid even deeper, making Octavia weep with pain. There was no pleasure. No pleasure could ever come out of this. "Nooo..." Vinyl started moving the dildo out, crushing the cellist in grips of pain and terror. "I love to see your ass bleed..." She pushed the dildo back inside, eliciting a loud shriek from the cellist. "Do you like the sight of your own blood, Octavia? I bet you do."
The offending dildo left Octavia's orifice, and the woman collapsed on the floor, crying, praying that it was the end of the torture. Vinyl grabbed her hair, tugging at it with cruelty, and brought the cellist's face to the dildo that, despire already being red, spotted red rivulets of blood. "See this, slut? This is your blood. I ripped your ass open. Now lick off what you've bled."
Octavia wanted to protest - even more, she just wanted to go to the bathroom and cry to herself in Vinyl's embrace - real Vinyl's embrace - the caring, soft-hearted, tender Vinyl - but she merely opened her mouth, letting the dirty, copper-tasting toy through her lips and teeth, sucking on it as Vinyl bobbed her head up and down. As the dildo started hitting the back of her throat, Octavia wanted to vomit, gagging, but, fortunately, the dildo withdrew, allowing the woman to cough up, saliva escaping from her mouth in copious amounts.
"Good. Now you're ready for your punishment," Vinyl said, smiling wickedly, as she threw the dildo away, where it ended up in the corner. Octavia was absolutely sure she would be made to collect it later. This... this wasn't the punishment? The cellist's eyes widened in fear. Then what IS the punishment?..
"But before that..." Vinyl smirked and reached down to her pussy with her hand, drawing Octavia's utmost attention. It was terriby hot to see her girlfriend without pants but in boots - and Octavia would definitely admire it if it were not for the roaring pain in her ass. With a grin, Vinyl reached into her inner folds, taking out a terribly wet, thick marker, much to Octavia's surprise. "Lick it," she ordered, and Octavia obeyed, savouring her woman's taste on the plastic.
Vinyl opened the marker, ordering Octavia to stand on her knees and be still. She brought the tip to Octavia's forehead, writing something straight on the cellist's skin. "It can't be washed off," she oberved, finshing her wordly mural. "Do you want to know what it says?" Octavia nodded. "It says, 'The property of Vinyl Scratch'. I wrote it," Vinyl continued in a lecturing tone, "so that, when I take you to a club, naked, on a leash, like the slave you are... and let everyone use all of your holes..." Octavia could not suppress a moan at the very notion. "They will know that they'll have to return you to me after they've had their way with you." Vinyl grinned, running her finger across Octavia's chin. "You're just a thing. You're my sex toy."
Octavia moaned loudly, trying to rub her legs in such a way that her pussy would get the necessary friction for her to cum. "Yes, Mistress, I love being your thing! I want nothing more than being your sex toy!" Octavia tried to lean closer to her dominantrix. "Please, I beg you, punish me and show me my place!"
Vinyl chuckled, patting Octavia's head. "Good slave. You know what to beg for." She grabbed Octavia by the hair and dragged her, on her hands and knees, to the bedroom. "Now, close your eyes." Octavia obeyed, for, it seemed, she could do nothing else but to obey. Like a good slave should, she thought, excitement returning to her in full scale, despite the pain. "Now show me that ass of yours."
Trembling, Octavia turned round, bracing herself for more pain. And pain followed. Something round, something dry, something very unpleasant, entered her butthole easily. Then another object of the same properties. And another. Octavia screamed.
"These are anal beads," Vinyl lectured, inserting another one. "That's four. Six make a set. I want you to count." Another one.
"Five!" Octavia shrieked, her anus trying to spit the intruders. "Six! Please, Mistress, no more!" Vinyl stopped.
"So, you are telling me you don't want a second set in your ass?" Vinyl wondered in a steely tone. Octavia shook her head, whimpering. "Too bad, because I want it." The torture continued, with Octavia counting each painful insertion.
"Eleven!" Ah! "Twelve!" Octavia panted, trying to come to terms with her ass being full of beads, making it hard, if not impossible, to move. "Please, Mistress, I beg you, no more!"
Vinyl paused, licking her lips, as Octavia looked at her with pleading eyes, and rubbed her chin, as if contemplating the cellist's fate. "Okay, slut. I am extremely generous today, so I'll allow you to lick my pussy without further punishment." With that, Vinyl sat on the bed, drawing her legs open, her prize in full view of the cellist.
"Oh, thank you, Mistress, thank you!" Octavia cried, crawling towards her slavemaster, the beads sending jolts of pain though her whole body. As she drew her head towards Vinyl's pussy, in a motion so old, and yet so new, and began licking, she felt pleasure awakening, commanding her whole, despite all the pain in her back and ass, despite all the humiliation she had suffered - or, more likely, because of it
It's just like I dreamt, the cellist thought, working her tongue on Vinyl's pussy, feeling her girlfriend's fingers grabbing her head roughly. Vinyl fucking me senseless, my ass full of beads, my body whipped, humiliated... Not caring about the consequences, Octavia slid her hand towards her legs, reaching for her soaking inner folds, rubbing her prize with vigour.
Vinyl didn't seem to mind - or notice - as she jerked back her head, lost in bliss, moaning quietly. Octavia quickened her pace, both of her tongue and her hand, working on Vinyl's clit with her lips, and on her own with her fingers. Maybe it's not so bad. Maybe I can live with it. I'll be a good slave to my mistress. I'll be good and she- "Ah!" She'll let me cum! And she'll take me to clubs where everyone will fuck me- "Ah!" Like the dirty slut that I am!
Finally, Octavia aimed for a kill, biting on Vinyl's clit with her teeth, knowing very well that it would send her over the edge. And so it did, as Vinyl came loudly, spraying Octavia's face with her juices, squirting all over her, finishing on her like a sponge, a sex toy; and Octavia rubbed her clit, and scratched it slightly with her nails, and pinched it, and, finally, impossibly, for the first time in weeks, with her back whipped, with her ass full of beads, with her mistress's seal on her forehead, she came.
***
"Vinyl, next time, could you be more... gentle?"
Vinyl laughed, the smoke from her cigarette disappearing in the breeze that swished through the bedroom through the open windows. "Never thought you'd say that. In the morning, you were all for roughness."
"That was..." Octavia scrunched her nose, feeling the soreness in her posterior fade away in the wake of Vinyl applying ointment. "A little too rough. At some point I thought you were going insane."
Vinyl frowned. "At some point, I thought i was going insane. It's just..." She sighed, taking a deep drag, holding her cellist in a close embrace. "You know I'm an actor. The DJ Pon-3 act, for one. I just took the role more personally because you wanted me to be rough..." Another drag followed. "Also, I was so... so angry at you. You yelled at me in the morning. It's just that I love you so much, and I do so much for you, and... Sorry."
Octavia leant in and pecked her girlfriend on the lips. "Shush, Vinyl. I'm sorry too. It's just that it was deeply unsettling. I propose that we schedule such... um, role-plays. Just so we know it in advance." Octavia smiled. "I'm not saying it was bad. It's our first time. Our first sex was bad too, remember?"
Vinyl scratched the back of her head, chuckling sheepishly as she set the cigarette aside. "Yeah... So, yeah. I won't be that rough, I promise." The DJ rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "I think we'll need to think of some safe word... Something for me to know if you're enjoying yourself, or if you really want me to stop."
"Oh, I know." Octavia grinned as she took up the cigarette and flicked it away through the window. The cigarette butt ricocheted off the outer wall, landing in the street, straight in a snowy pile.
Octavia leant in to Vinyl's ear. "The safe word is 'harder'."